proceed when Khan ambled into the group, limping slightly. Most of the talk was about Padgett-Smith. “I saw her about forty meters northeast of me,” Khan related. “I was going after her when my foot slipped into a crack in the shale. My ankle won’t support my full weight for a while.”
“What was she doing?”
“I do not know. I just looked up and saw her out there…”
“She was chasing the damn mule,” Hendricks exclaimed. “It must’ve broken loose from its handler when the shooting started. I guess she was worried about her microscopes and stuff.”
Lee focused on the former policeman. “If you saw that…”
“Well, sir, I was kinda busy. You know, shooting and reloading and shooting.” Hendricks kept a level tone in his voice. “I saw Major Khan headed that way and figured he’d catch her. I didn’t know he twisted his ankle.”
Lee checked his watch. “That was barely thirty minutes ago. She can’t be very far away.”
O’Neil interjected. “Well, we can’t go stumbling around in the dark, calling her name. The gooners would find her… or us.”
Lee rubbed his bearded chin. “Concur. She’s a smart lady. She’ll fort up somewhere and stay put. We’ll go find her come sunup.” He looked around. “Meanwhile, let’s leg it out of here while we still have some light. We’ll find another spot for a night defensive position. Cold camp: no fires, no lights, and damn little talking.”
Kassim sized up the mule handler as a man who would respond to reason.
“Son of a whore! You take the Americans’ money and lead them to us!” The Syrian made a show of drawing his knife. Eight inches of honed, rusty steel glinted before the captive’s eyes.
The Pakistani noncom watched the blade waving before him. He almost admired the way the steel weaved and danced. He found himself speaking freely, completely, and honestly. The interrogation lasted less than ten minutes before the man’s knowledge was drained.
Ali, who had remained concealed during the process, consulted with Kassim after the prisoner was led away to an uncertain fate. “What do you think?”
“I believe that he held nothing back.” Kassim gave his wolfish grin. “Bare steel and loud voices frequently produce results.”
“Well?”
“The team is composed of a Pakistani major, a doctor, medic, and two other animal handlers. There are six Americans and the English woman. That vermin”—Kassim nodded toward the departing noncom—”says the mules carried very little medical supplies. Mostly camping equipment, food, water, and some fodder.”
Ali shifted his weight and folded his arms — a sign of agitation. “Kassim, what is their purpose?” His voice was flat, urgent.
“Presumably they were providing medical assistance to the poor in this area. The bought dog believes they had another purpose related to the woman but he says he was not informed of the details. I tend to believe him.”
“Surely he must have overheard something more.”
Kassim leaned slightly forward for emphasis. “Brother, I have much experience in such things. I tell you, he held nothing back.”
Ali accepted his colleague’s professional judgment. He began thinking ahead. “You say we lost six men?”
“Seven, counting Loal. He will live but he is useless for now.”
“You realize that we must press them tomorrow. As hard and as fast as possible. They can be flown out almost any time.”
Kassim spread his hands. “More men are on the way here. They should arrive before morning, but as I have said: concentrating against the Americans leaves us weak elsewhere.”
Ali nodded his understanding. “Yes, I know. But this is the decisive point at this moment.” He jabbed a bony finger earthward. “If we kill more Americans tomorrow, they will almost certainly leave. It will give us more time to send the next couriers to their destiny.”
The Syrian veteran bobbed his head in assent. “I hear, brother, and I obey.” He turned to go.
“Kassim!”
“Yes?”
“I want the woman. Alive if possible, but dead if you must.”
“As you wish, Doctor.”
26
The Pandora Project had turned to hash.
Derringer read Mohammed’s email, then read it again out loud. “Lee’s SSI-Pak search team ambushed late yesterday border area near Chaman. One Pak KIA, one MIA, and Norton WIA serious. Padgett-Smith missing. Lee searching this AM and will advise ASAP. Interrogation of one POW indicates probable aQ connection. Helo extraction likely today depending on CPS results. Suggest withholding notification of NOK until later. Omar.”
Derringer shoved back from his console and stood up. Then he realized that he had no idea where he was likely to go. He sat down again, staring at the screen. He wondered if he should call Phillip Catterly to announce Padgett-Smith’s disappearance, then thought better of it. If she were not found today, there would be ample time to pass the word to her colleague in Maryland and her next of kin in Britain.
Dr. Carolyn Padgett-Smith awoke with a start. She did not know what had stirred her, but the knowledge came edging up with the gray dawn.
It had been a hard night, literally and figuratively. Though the rocky depression was mostly out of the wind, there was no way to get comfortable in her stony sanctuary. She scooted her bottom across the hard, flat surface and heard a faint ripping sound. She knew immediately that her favorite Gore-Tex parka had torn again but she barely gave a thought to the 180 Pounds she had invested in it. Her hideout was full of snags, and another ripstop hole could hardly matter.
The crest was growing more discernable in the faint light, but most of the hill remained hidden in shadow. With her knees drawn up, she realized that her pistol had fallen between her feet. She retrieved it and laid it beside her. In a little while the hillside below would become visible and she could deploy the Klimov.
She began wondering what she would say to Lee and the others— assuming they found her.
Breezy. His short description of the gunshot signal forced its way to the front of her consciousness. She had not thought of it since beginning her climb last evening. She risked a glance around the corner of her hideout, trying to see into the narrow path below. It was still dark. She decided that when she could see the trail she would fire the shots, evenly spaced. Undoubtedly the SSI team would be looking for her by then.
Undoubtedly.
Kassim was taking no chances. False foot or not, he led the impromptu band of fighters toward the scene of the previous evening’s firefight. He had neither requested permission from Ali nor informed him. Sometimes a leader had to lead from the front.
The point man came across the spot where the infidels had been ambushed. He knelt down, as it was now light enough to read the evidence. Spent brass littered the ground, with occasional hoofprints where laden mules had left their mark. The soil was too hard in most places for mere humans to make an imprint.
